


oasis in the desert

by singsungie



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, actually, but i promise they are super happy and together, minho is not very good at feelings, parties in general, softer than it seems tbh, yea uh its on an indefinite hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsungie/pseuds/singsungie
Summary: Han Jisung is sloppy kisses in dark corners, he’s the lips on Minho’s neck at 2am, he’s the sugary taste of fruits, he’s the sweaty skin under Minho’s fingers. He’s a hazy dream of a shadowy figure that lurks in Minho’s peripheral vision.Jisung never feels real until he’s in Minho’s hold and then he’s gone way too soon.But maybe it's time Minho learned to hold onto things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is the first skz fic i'm posting so!!  
> definitely wouldn't be here if not for the loveliest [beta reader ever ilusm muah](https://twitter.com/CHANGBlNlE)  
> hope you like it!

Han Jisung is sloppy kisses in dark corners, he’s the lips on Minho’s neck at 2am, he’s the sugary taste of fruits, he’s the sweaty skin under Minho’s fingers. He’s a hazy dream of a shadowy figure that lurks in Minho’s peripheral vision.

Jisung never feels real until he’s in Minho’s hold and then he’s gone way too soon.

 

They meet early in spring, at one of Changbin’s shitty parties. He’d argue they’re not, but every person who has any resemblance of taste would agree with Minho, he’s pretty sure. The alcohol is bad, the crowd is worse and the air smells like stale sweat and poor quality weed; the only good thing is the music, made by Changbin and his friends themselves. Still, Minho comes and stays, because it’s more fun than working on yet another uni assignment.

It’s been an hour or so and he’s spacing out in the corner of a beat-down sofa, halfway listening to drunk giggling kids try and sing along. The ceiling has a stain, Minho notes idly. It’s kinda big, near the old-fashioned lamp that’s so dusty, its colour is unrecognizable. The stain looks like a fluffy dog or maybe a sheep, or maybe nothing at all, just a messy splotch, the way Minho’s mind feels.

A warm body slumps in the cramped space between Minho and the teenagers and then there’s a glass being pressed into Minho’s forearm. It burns with ice and Minho gasps, flinches, looks down. It’s full of clear water, small beads condensed on the outside. Minho lazily drags his eyes up the bare arm to a black tank top to a silver necklace to a beaming grin and sparkling eyes and dark brown hair.

“I think you need some of this,” the stranger says, pushing the glass into his arm again. Minho’s eyes flicker down to it and he’s too aware of the dryness in the back of his throat.

“Not supposed to take drinks from strangers,” he says anyway, because Minho is always difficult.

“I’m Han Jisung,” he answers, quick and confident. “Not strangers anymore, right? Drink the water.”

Minho regards him for a moment, trying to rack his brain whether Changbin ever mentioned a Jisung, but he finds he doesn’t care anyway, so he takes the glass.

The water is crisp and cold and the glass is wet in his hold. Minho keeps his eyes half open, watching Jisung from behind the curtain of his eyelashes. Jisung’s gaze slides down to Minho’s neck then to his mouth and Minho has to stop a smirk from curling his lips as he makes a decision.

He finishes the glass, drops it on the side table and stands up, taking hold of Jisung’s wrist as he goes.

Jisung startles but follows quickly, letting Minho lead him to the corner of Changbin’s bathroom. Minho swiftly turns them around, pushes Jisung into the washing machine and then kisses him, cupping Jisung’s cheeks as he leans in.

Jisung’s skin is soft but his lips are even softer, molding against Minho’s demanding ones. His hands grip Minho’s shirt at the sides, pulling him in even closer.

Minho drags one of his hands down to Jisung’s hip, presses his fingers above the bone, drinks up the gasp Jisung lets out and pushes his tongue into his mouth. He tastes like the bitter beer from Changbin’s fridge and tropical chewing gum and Minho savors it.

Jisung’s fingers tighten just a little more and then he’s pushing at Minho until his back slams into a cupboard near the sink. There’s a dull thud when a bottle or two fall over but they’re too lost in each other to notice, desperate hands travelling all over sweat-sticky skin and suddenly uncomfortable clothes. Minho’s hands drop down to Jisung’s ass, pressing him against himself, and Jisung lets his lips trail down Minho’s jaw to his neck, mouthing his skin, and his kisses are wet and slow and _perfect_. Minho melts under them, lets out noises he doesn’t even realize he’s making until Jisung pulls back, catches his gaze with widened, dark eyes.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he murmurs, face flushed. One of Jisung’s hands brushes Minho’s hair away from his face and then stays there, pulling at the strands just enough to make Minho lean his head back.

“Lee Minho,” he answers, voice breathless, and then Jisung’s mouth is back on his neck, moving down all the way to the sensitive spot in the dip of Minho’s collarbone. Minho’s breath catches in his throat, eyes tightly shut as the world slowly spins. Jisung’s pressed so close against him, he can feel his hard-on pushing against his own and it’s too many layers of fabric, it shouldn’t feel good, and yet it does.

The low echo of the music fills the quiet bathroom together with their labored breathing. Jisung’s skin is hot when Minho traces his fingers up his back, their lips back together in a slick frenzy. He jumps the slightest bit when Minho moves his hand to his ribs, skin barely brushing skin.

“Ticklish?” Minho mumbles into Jisung’s lips, smirking.

“Maybe,” Jisung says and bites Minho’s lip as he presses a thigh between Minho’s legs. Minho straight up moans, loud and shameless, bucking into the pressure and Jisung leans back again.

“God, hyung, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathes out. Minho can’t help but shudder at the way the honorific rolls off Jisung’s tongue.

“I know,” Minho answers and uses the hand that’s not under Jisung’s shirt to push their lips back together. Jisung tightens his fingers in Minho’s hair, then slides them down to the back of his neck, scraping his nails just hard enough for goosebumps to rise on Minho’s skin.

It’s Minho’s turn to pull back, lips parting to say something—he’s not even himself sure what yet, maybe ask Jisung if he wants to keep going, if he wants to get out of Changbin’s stuffy flat and into Minho’s bed.

It’s been a while since Minho’s had a one-night stand, but he figures it’s also been a while since he made out with someone minutes after learning their name, so who cares about self-made rules anyway.

Jisung is looking at him with fiery eyes, lips wet with saliva, cheeks reddened; waiting for whatever Minho’s about to dish out.

Except he doesn’t get to. Another guy pokes his head in, grinning when he catches them still tangled in each other.

“Changbin-hyung is looking for you,” he says and Minho guesses it’s for Jisung with the way he groans. “Also, you guys should learn to lock the door.”

“Tell him I’m busy,” Jisung shoots back, even as Minho starts sliding his hands away.

“Oh, he knows,” the guy says. “He said you making out with strangers doesn’t count.”

The door slams shut. Jisung looks back at Minho, fire in his eyes quieted down to a soft simmering.

“I’ll see you around, hyung,” he mumbles and then pulls Minho into a bruising kiss for a couple more seconds.

He’s gone by the time Minho opens his eyes again. The bathroom is quiet except for the echo of the music and when he swipes his tongue over them, his lips taste like bitter beer and pineapple and mango.

 

Minho doesn’t see Jisung again for more than two weeks, even though he goes to every party he hears about. It’s not something he usually does and Minho himself isn’t truly sure _why_ he scans the crowd every time, why he keeps an eye out way into the night, jumps at every newcomer, disappointment blooming in his chest when it’s not Jisung. It hasn’t been anything more than a kiss and yet he can’t stop thinking about Jisung’s lips on his neck.

Minho almost asks Changbin about him, starting to doubt his own drunken memory, but there’s something about the uncertainty that keeps Minho on his toes. It has him eager for tomorrow and that’s a whole lot better than the apathetic slump he usually falls into.

Woojin catches him at one of the parties, elbowing his side and handing him a beer.

“You’re out often lately,” he notes and Minho shrugs.

“Didn’t you use to complain about me being holed up?” he raises an eyebrow and takes a sip. Woojin purses his lips.

“Extremes aren’t good either way,” he muses, watching Minho with careful eyes and he kind of hates it, even though he knows it’s just because Woojin cares. “Is this about him ag—”

“No,” Minho cuts him off, a little too harshly, startling Woojin, so he apologizes.

“So, what is it about then? You know, you worry me sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Minho smirks. “Actually,” he sighs. “It… might be about _someone._ Someone else.”

“Oh?” Woojin perks up, pressing in closer. “Care to share?”

Minho bites his lip, looking down to the plastic cup. He sloshes the beer around, slowly, watching it spiral.

If he says it out loud to another person, if he asks, then there’s no way to pretend it was just a hallucination of his lonely brain. Then it’s real. Tangible. Fragile.

“Do you know Han Jisung?”

The moment words spill out of his lips, Minho regrets them, so he downs the beer, squeezing his eyes shut. Hoping the music and laughter were loud enough to drown them out.

But Woojin does hear them, and when Minho opens his eyes, he’s met with Woojin’s serious stare and a hand on his shoulder.

“Minho…” He quiets and then sighs, fingers digging into muscle. “I have. He’s— well. I’m not surprised you two found each other.”

“What do you mean?” Minho asks but Woojin just shrugs, giving him a small smile.

“Just be careful.”

“I always am,” Minho winks and watches Woojin laugh, but his stomach turns in an uncomfortable way.

 

When he does meet Jisung again, Minho’s caught off guard. He’s downing shots, throat burning and world pleasantly numbed. It’s his third one and Minho closes his eyes as he throws his head back.

There’s a familiar cold pressing into his skin and his eyes shoot open to find Jisung standing in front of him, big grin on his face.

“Hey,” he says, and Minho blinks at him, dumbstruck, because Jisung’s hair is dark blue now. It’s not that it looks weird, in fact, it’s the opposite. Jisung was already hot the first time Minho saw him but now he looks scorching and it makes Minho’s heart speed up, his thoughts darkening. He accepts the water and downs it, then grabs Jisung’s hand and pulls at him, hurrying off into an unlit hallway. He’s been getting tired of waiting.

“Slow down,” Jisung laughs and the sound is cute, so cute Minho stops for half a second before continuing and pushing Jisung into a wall. He keeps his hand on Jisung’s wrist, lifts it up near his head and against the wall as well and kisses Jisung, quick and forceful. Jisung’s lips feel just as he remembers them too, just the way he kept imagining.

“Where’d you disappear to?” Minho asks once he leans back to catch his breath.

“Gotta keep my scholarship, hyung,” Jisung laughs again. _He’s high_ , Minho realizes. His clothes smell like smoke and he’s laughing in the kind of giggly way high people do.

And yet his mouth tastes like mint and mangoes when he drags Minho back in. Jisung’s free hand grips his jaw and Minho can’t help but wonder whether Jisung was hoping to find him again or if he’s just always ready to grab anyone he finds hot.

He wouldn’t fault Jisung either way but he hopes Jisung wouldn’t fault him either for hoping it’s the former.

 

It becomes a sort of _thing_ between them; they fool around a few more times, mostly making out and humping and marking up each other’s necks, in any dark, quiet corner they can find, nothing more than pure physical bliss. And yet, every day after leaves Minho wishing he took that damned step and got Jisung’s number instead of just letting him fade into the dark.

In the end, all Minho has is his name and his blue hair and the hazy parties where Jisung always, somehow, finds him first. And then only the tropical taste on his lips when they part.

Minho can’t, however, keep visiting every party out there in hopes to have Jisung’s tongue down his throat until he can’t think straight.

Assignments and tests pile up and keep him busy and tired and yet Minho still finds his mind wandering to blueberry colored hair. It happens again during a particularly boring lecture, so he unlocks his phone to, hopefully, will them away by mindlessly scrolling through social media. But it’s all the same and just as boring and he’s close to going back to try and study when an Instagram post catches his eye.

Changbin has posted a short video of himself playing with a butterfly filter and there, in the back, sits a disgruntled Jisung. It’s pixelated to hell, but Minho would recognize that blue anywhere, always expecting to see it in random student crowds. He silently thanks Changbin’s habit of always tagging people as Jisung’s profile loads up and then he spends the rest of the hour scrolling through pictures, careful to not like any.

It’s mostly selfies, a few shots of his friends or nature or food, but as Minho reaches the bottom, another person keeps cropping up more and more often, arms around Jisung’s shoulders, kisses on cheeks and foreheads and noses, hands intertwined, and Minho can’t help the pang of jealousy that awakens in his stomach. He keeps himself aware of the fact that the last picture of them together was more than two years ago, but it doesn’t help much. He stares at one for a particularly long time, the one in which Jisung’s eyes are closed as he laughs and the stranger is pushing his lips into Jisung’s cute cheek, both arms tightly hugging his shoulders. They look happy and Minho swallows a sigh.

Soon after, the professor dismisses them and Minho’s finger hovers over the follow button for way too long before he just closes the app and locks his phone.

It’s the opposite of being careful but Minho still imagines himself in the stranger’s place.

 

Despite talking to Woojin and finding his Instagram account, Minho’s still feels like Jisung doesn’t exist in the daylight, only in dimly lit rooms and shadowy corners; in fact, he’s not even sure the boy exists outside the buzz and rush of a party, the sickly smell of spilled alcohol and guts, and it’s both exciting and unnerving.

But things rarely stay the same and Minho’s worldview gets shaken up soon enough. It’s the fifth or sixth time they have their bodies pressed tight together, this time behind Chan’s bedroom door where neither of them are allowed, when Jisung moves back and looks at Minho with mischievous eyes.

“Hyung, I’m hungry,” he complains. “Let’s go get cheeseburgers?”

“Now?” is the only reaction Minho has, lazily blinking at him, high off the weed Felix brought and Jisung’s sweet lips. However, his stomach perks up instantly at the mention of the food so he shrugs and follows Jisung.

They run down the stairs, Jisung’s fingers wrapped around Minho’s, and he struggles just the slightest bit to catch up, his legs a little tied and clumsy. Jisung laughs when he complains and once they’re outside, he squats down, letting go of Minho’s hand.

“Get on,” he encourages and Minho moves before he can think, wrapping his limbs around Jisung’s sturdy body.

The night air is fresh and Jisung smells like oranges and cigarettes when Minho leans his face into the crook of his neck. It’s weird, to be together with Jisung but _outside_ , where the chill raises goosebumps on Minho’s exposed skin. To have him under Minho, solid and _there_ and real; Minho’s definitely not so out of it to imagine this and something turns in his belly with the realization.

It’s hard to say whether he’s hungry or nauseous or nervous and he doesn’t try to, just lets his lips sluggishly brush against Jisung’s salty neck.

 

“Hey,” Jisung softly says, either minutes or hours later, jostling Minho. “We’re here.”

Minho grunts in displeasure but clambers down, finding his footing in the tilted world. Everything feels just a little off, world angled off its axis, and he usually enjoys it but right now it’s too much.

“Sleepyhead,” Jisung laughs and Minho, with his eyes almost closed and their fingers intertwined, hopes he’s not imagining the fondness coloring Jisung’s voice. “C’mon.”

The restaurant is too bright—Minho squints harder, letting Jisung lead them—and smells strongly of fries and oil. There’s a couple of girls in front of them, giggling loudly, almost too loudly, over the quiet notes of shitty pop music. Minho sighs and leans on Jisung as the other scans the menu.

“Will a medium be enough for you?” he asks Minho quietly and he nods. Minho pats his pants with his free hand, looking for his wallet, but Jisung stops him, grabbing his wrist.

“It’s okay,” he says and Minho blinks past the dryness of his eyes to catch his wide smile. “I’ll pay, hyung, it’s fine.”

“But—” Minho protests.

“It’s fine,” Jisung repeats, glancing to the side for a moment before meeting his eyes again. His voice is a little quieter now. “You can pay the next time, right?”

“Sure,” Minho says, interrupting himself with a yawn and Jisung chuckles.

“Hyung is so cute,” he teases before moving on to the cashier. Minho leans his forehead on Jisung’s shoulder, keeping their intertwined hands between their bodies, and closes his eyes for a moment as he listens to Jisung speak. His voice is melodic and beautiful and Minho catches himself wondering how it would sound gasping out Minho’s name, desperate and begging and needy.

It’s really not the time, in the middle of a fast food restaurant, so he bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself to think of greasy food. It does make him more awake, at least.

There’s only three people besides them in the whole restaurant, but they still take the farthest table. Jisung sits in front of Minho and immediately starts stuffing his face, but Minho takes a moment to just lean on his hands and watch him.

The light is white and too harsh but Jisung still looks good in it, his pretty features highlighted. His blue hair is fading slowly, dark roots coming back in, and it glimmers with every movement. Minho blinks slowly, licks his lips. They taste sweet, like they always do when he’s with Jisung. Jisung’s eyes widen when he catches Minho staring, his cheeks full and round.

“Stop,” he whines, looking back down and hiding his face. Minho thinks his heart shouldn’t beat so damn wild at the way Jisung looks when he blushes, but he chalks it up to the fact he looks hot with blue hair and they stopped in the middle of a make-out and he’s still incredibly horny.

Or maybe it’s just the way the bright light is close enough to the sun for this to feel like a daytime date, something Minho imagines way too often as he lays sleepless.

They laugh and talk as they eat, Jisung relaxing enough to not mind Minho’s stares until he reaches over to poke at his cheek and then he’s red all over again.

“So mean,” he pouts, lightly kicking Minho’s shins. “Torturing my poor cheeks…”

“You like it,” Minho retorts, pushing his finger harder. He laughs at Jisung fake cries and moves back, lifting his hands in defeat. “Sorry, sorry.”

“You better be,” Jisung answers, voice dark, and he watches Minho with hooded eyes, pulling the straw of his drink into his mouth.

“Or what?” Minho raises an eyebrow, but his throat is dry. Jisung just shrugs and sips his soda.

“You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

 

The restaurant’s bathroom is in the basement, stairs a little too steep for Minho’s heavy legs and he’s glad for Jisung’s hand in his. The bathroom seems empty but Jisung opens all three stalls anyway before tugging Minho into the last one. They slam the door shut and Minho pushes Jisung against it, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. Jisung groans and pulls him closer with a hand on his jaw, catching Minho’s lips in a bruising kiss. He quickly flips them over and Minho lets him, relaxing in his hold, hands resting on his shoulders.

Jisung slides his lips down to Minho’s neck, biting down hard and then soothing the mark with his tongue. Minho moans just a bit too loud, shooting a hand up to quiet himself, and Jisung glances up just in time to catch Minho bite down on his fingers, mouth going still against his skin.

“You’re so fucking hot, it’s unfair,” Jisung murmurs into Minho’s neck, one hand gripping Minho’s thigh hard, fingers digging in. Minho is still a little out of it and it takes him a second to realize Jisung’s mouth isn’t on his neck anymore.

Instead Jisung has dropped to his knees, big, hungry eyes staring up at Minho as he grips his hips.

“Want to blow you,” he says. Minho drinks the sight in, the slightest eyebrow twitch, the sparkling eyes, the wet lips and lightly flushed cheeks, the fading blue hair over Jisung’s sweaty forehead—there’s no way _anyone_ would say no, so he nods enthusiastically.

“Please,” he whimpers out and Jisung’s eyes widen just a bit more, a smirk growing on his lips. He unbuttons Minho’s jeans, struggles with pulling them down and Minho wants to help, reaches down, but Jisung takes a hold of his hand instead and swipes his tongue over the digits before sucking them in.

Minho’s breath stutters and dies in his throat.

Then Jisung’s hand is wrapped around Minho’s dick, Minho’s fingers still in his mouth, and Minho closes his eyes for the shortest moment, gathering himself, trying to breathe in through the wave of desire that overrides him.

He opens his eyes with new-found confidence and presses his fingers down on Jisung’s tongue, soft and pliable under his touch.

“Well, then, show me what you’ve got,” Minho challenges with a smirk and pulls his hand away, tangling his wet fingers in Jisung’s hair.

Jisung breathes out, air hot against Minho’s thigh. His knees almost buck when Jisung pumps him once, twice and then his mouth is on Minho’s dick, wet tongue fluttering over the tip before he swallows him down. Minho’s muscles tighten up in surprise and his fingers pull at Jisung’s hair, his other hand flying up to catch the obscene sounds before they slip out.

It’s not that Minho’s never been sucked off before or that no one did it well, it’s that apparently Jisung is a whole new category by himself and if Minho was any younger or less experienced, this would have been a whole lot more embarrassing.

Not that it’s not embarrassing already—they’re in a fucking bathroom of a lousy fast food joint in the middle of the night and Minho can’t stop moaning like a schoolgirl being touched for the first time—but Jisung isn’t complaining and so neither will Minho.

Jisung on his knees is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen; he’s bobbing his head, hand wrapping over where his mouth can’t reach, and Minho’s breathing has lost any semblance of a pattern, soft, whiny noises escaping between his fingers.

Jisung pulls away, dragging his tongue over Minho’s dick along the way, spit and precum coated lips shining, pupils blown wide.

“You sound so damn pretty,” he breathes out, one hand pumping Minho’s cock at the same fast pace, while his other slides down.

Minho can see the way Jisung’s eyelashes flutter at the feeling of finally touching himself and—scratch any previous thoughts, the way a strangled moan falls from Jisung’s wet lips, eyes half closed, and he leans right back in to slide his mouth down Minho’s dick, _that’s_ hotter than the depths of hell. Minho twists his fingers in Jisung’s hair, pulls him down harshly, the warmth and wetness of Jisung’s mouth almost too good.

Jisung moans around his dick and Minho gasps, glancing down to find Jisung’s big, glossy eyes staring back at him, face flushed beet red. He moves a hand from Minho’s cock up to his navel, dragging down just hard enough to leave faint nail marks and it spurs Minho on even more, tugging Jisung all the way until his nose touches Minho’s skin. Jisung swallows around his cock, breathing out through his nose, and Minho bites down on his hand, willing himself to stay afloat.

He lets go of Jisung’s hair as his throat constricts around Minho’s dick, Jisung’s head slowly moving back and forth in a lazy rhythm, but the hand from his navel shoots down to grab his wrist. Jisung brings the hand back to his hair and pulls all the way back. Minho catches a glimpse of Jisung’s own dick, head flushed in Jisung’s tight hold.

“Scratch what I said before,” Jisung mumbles, looking up at Minho with glazed over eyes and, fuck, he could come from that look only, the trust and desire in it overwhelming. “I want you to fuck my face.”

Minho almost chokes on his spit but he catches on quick, thighs trembling with a new wave of arousal. He didn’t even know he could get even _more_ turned on.

But no matter how horny, Minho loves being difficult, so he takes his time, gently caresses Jisung’s face, brushing a thumb over his swollen, spit-slick lips.

“Is that what you like, huh?” he asks, lowering his other hand to cup Jisung’s cheek. He can feel his jaw loosening in Minho’s grip, lips falling open as he gasps, and Minho smirks, taking notice of the way Jisung’s hand fastens the pace over his own dick. “Not only you’re on your knees in a public bathroom, but you want me to just use you to get off? That’s dirty.”

“Please, hyung,” Jisung is the one to whimper now.

Minho collects the drool from his lips with his fingers and lifts his hand up, licking them off as he hums, pretending to think. He can’t say he’s not enjoying the way the mood has shifted and there’s entire pages that could be written about the way Jisung looks so indecent and tantalizing, begging for Minho’s cock.

“Only because you ask nicely,” he answers, moving both of his hands to grip Jisung’s head and pushing his dick all the way down his throat. Jisung whimpers around it, his free hand coming up to brace himself against Minho’s thigh.

He pulls out a bit, going slowly at first, scared to hurt Jisung. But when he thrusts in again, his tip hitting the back of Jisung’s throat, and Jisung moans, too loud even with Minho’s dick in his mouth, he lets himself go.

Minho has to bite his lip to stay quiet, finding it a little hard to keep a steady pace with the way his hips keep stuttering. It’s kind of hot, imagining someone walking in on them, on the way Minho has his cock buried in Jisung’s throat, the way Jisung’s watery eyes and flushed cheeks look almost too gorgeous to be real, but he’s pretty sure it’s also illegal.

Minho’s fingers twist in Jisung’s hair and he can feel the buildup in his muscles, tightening as if about to snap. Jisung has to be close too; he digs his nails in even harder, rolls his eyes over and whimpers around Minho’s cock.

“Fuck,” Minho groans out, tugging on Jisung’s hair until he looks up again. Minho slows down his pace, huffs out a breath. “I’m close.”

Jisung moans at that, tongue swiping wherever it can reach on Minho’s dick and he tugs on his hair harder, warning him.

“Do you want me to—?” he asks, breathless, and Jisung’s shiny eyes light up as he nods, the movement making Minho choke out a moan.

“God, Jisung, you’re so—” Minho thrusts into him, even faster than before, and Jisung looks so fucking hot, just sitting there, taking it all even as tears pool in his eyes and spill over; he’s still glancing up at Minho, pupils so big his eyes look straight up black, faint whimpers trying to escape his throat.

Minho’s hips stutter again and Jisung hums around his dick, low and purposeful, and it’s enough to push him over the edge. He doesn’t try to quiet the sounds he makes, the loud, breathy gasps as he spills down Jisung’s throat. Minho’s pretty sure he had forgotten to breathe for a few moments, his vision filling with black spots, but it feels too good to care.

Jisung obediently swallows every single drop and Minho watches him with half-way closed lids, hands falling from his hair and down to his soft cheeks. He swipes over Jisung’s lips when he leans back, Minho’s dick slipping out of his mouth.

Jisung’s breath stutters and he whimpers, shoulders shaking as he comes. He looks gorgeous, tiny noises breaking through his swollen lips. Minho brushes his palms over Jisung’s wet cheeks, catches his head between them when Jisung relaxes.

Minho kneels down as well. His jeans are ripped and he can feel the chill of the bathroom tile all the way to his bones and it makes everything feel so damn real. He’s here, in front of Jisung and his tired smile, and it’s not a dream. So, Minho takes advantage of that, placing a soft kiss on Jisung’s forehead and his slightly salty cheeks and his messy, reddened lips. His heart is going a million miles per minute and he can’t remember the last time he felt so damn alive and content.

Minho almost asks for Jisung’s number then and there, almost asks him on a date in the real world, when it’s not 2am and they’re not under influence; and, sure, maybe, the public toilet of a shitty fast food restaurant isn’t the best place for it, but anywhere would be good when Minho’s with Jisung.

He doesn’t get to, because Jisung pushes forward and presses their lips together and then pulls back with a grin.

“We should totally do this again,” he says, eyes sparkling, but now in a different way. “Maybe somewhere more sanitary though?”

Minho groans and rolls his eyes and presses his forehead to Jisung’s sweaty one.

“You started it, shut up,” he murmurs, kissing him softly. Jisung just giggles under his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was the first time i wrote smut can you tell lmao  
> you can also come talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/squishiesungie) or [cc!](https://curiouscat.me/squishiesungie)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i have exams so i'm posting this a lil early and next chap will probs be up at the end of the next week! it's a lot softer, so i hope you like it~

Minho doesn’t ask for Jisung’s number and so when he disappears again, there’s no way for Minho to contact him. He knows he can’t afford to visit every party out there again with finals on the nose and he’s sure it’s the same for Jisung as well, but he can’t stop himself from thinking the worst.

Of course, this situation is stupidly easily fixable by just asking Changbin or Chan or anyone else from the crowd of people that Minho knows Jisung hangs out with, and yet he does nothing, choosing to wallow in anxiety and sleepless nights.

There’s no more pretense he can cling to, no more uncertainty; of course, Han fucking Jisung is real and out there and probably not thinking about Minho at all.

Jisung is real and Minho wants nothing more than to be next to him again, to learn more about his soul, to see every smile Jisung would show him.

Now that he finally lets himself accept it, Minho remembers he’s seen Jisung before, in various parties with pretty boys and prettier girls, never alone.

If he racks his mind enough, back to the painful times he’s piled other stuff over, Minho remembers glimpses of a big party almost two years ago. He’d been drinking too much, too fast, too eager to numb every cell in his body, and then spent puking his guts out for half an hour, legs weak as he sat on Chan’s bathroom floor.

Jisung had almost orange hair then and he stumbled into the bathroom in the middle of Minho’s vomiting session, slamming the door shut as sobs wracked his body. Minho doesn’t remember much more; he thinks he just observed the other boy wail for a minute or so before retching again.

 

Minho’s staring at his ceiling, headlights drifting across it, and wonders if they actually spoke back then. Jisung might have just apologized and left or—

 

But no, there’s a distinct memory that floats up, one of soothing hands running up and down Minho’s back.

“Sorry,” Minho remembers Jisung laughing and brushing his sleeve under his snotty nose. “Do you want me to bring you water?”

Minho just groaned, leaning his head on the seat, and Jisung reached over, flushing the toilet.

“At least we’re both a mess,” he sniffled and Minho cracked an eye open, blindly reaching around and taking Jisung’s free hand and slotting their fingers together.

“Everything will be okay,” he said, voice raspy. He didn’t believe that then—Minho’s not really sure he believes it now either—but it felt fitting.

Jisung sobbed again, the hand on Minho’s back clenching, and leant into Minho’s side. Minho closed his eyes again as Jisung wept into his shirt and held his hand tight.

 

Minho in the present rolls over so his face is buried in the pillow. He groans and presses in further, not letting himself breathe.

It’s so stupid, so so stupid. What does he have to lose? His pride, his dignity? Jisung sucked him off in a public bathroom, inviting him for lunch can’t be more shameful than that.

Minho feels tiny feet walk across the back of his thighs, hears a quiet meow. The cat headbutts Minho’s shoulder and he sighs, turning over. Dori comes to sit on his chest, curling her legs under her body. The weight is comforting. Minho runs his hand down her body, watching her eyes squint in pleasure.

Of course, he’s not scared of simple things like asking someone out. It’s the possibility that Jisung doesn’t care at all, that all of it was purely physical to him and he doesn’t feel any curiosity towards Minho. That he would rather let their relationship, whatever it is, fade back into nothingness.

It’s scary, to give someone power over your feelings this way and while Minho thinks he’d trust Jisung with many things, he’s not sure this is one of them yet.

 

Han Jisung, with his wide grins and sparkling eyes, with his sweet lips on Minho’s skin, with his gasps and whimpers and moans, is becoming less of an indistinguishable figure and more and more a real danger to Minho’s fragile heart.

 

Next time they meet is on a Friday night, Minho stumbling out of a club for a smoke, and Jisung staggering inside. They almost hit each other on the stairs, Minho steadying Jisung with hands on his shoulders. Frozen, he stares at Jisung for what seems like hours.

The blue and violet neon lights bounce off Jisung’s skin and hair, making him look ethereal and dreamlike. An ironic observation, Minho realizes as fingers tighten on his shoulders.

“You bleached your hair,” he states, blinking. Jisung licks his lips, one hand coming up to hold onto Minho’s wrist.

“I did,” he answers, smiling. “A couple days ago. Does it look good?”

“Yeah,” Minho breathes out and Jisung pulls him in closer, their mouths clashing.

Jisung pulls them down the rest of the stairs and into the street, Minho’s hands sliding up to his newly blonde hair, lips eagerly sliding together. Jisung tastes like pina colada and Minho greedily drinks it up.

“Hyung,” Jisung whimpers, pulling back, arms around Minho’s waist. “Wanna go somewhere with me?”

“Sure,” Minho answers and his stomach flutters for a moment. He wonders if maybe it’ll be Jisung’s place or a hotel room or—

“Great!” Jisung grins and moves away, taking hold of Minho’s hand. “It has the best view ever!”

 _Oh_ , Minho thinks as Jisung pulls him along, but there’s no disappointment flooding in and the fluttering in his belly isn’t going anywhere either. _Oh._

 

Minho’s hand clenches around Jisung’s as they start climbing the wooden stairs up a hill and he pulls the younger boy closer, closer, until their bodies are pressed tightly together.

“Wait,” Jisung laughs, stopping mid-step. “Hyung, are you scared of heights?”

Minho just looks away in response, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Awh, you don’t gotta be!” Jisung says, moving again. “I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

He brings up their joined hands as he speaks, sparing a few kisses to Minho’s knuckles and Minho’s breath hitches. He forces an edge of exasperation to his laughter, but, suddenly, the height doesn’t seem all that scary.

There’s an empty paved clearing at the top, a wooden railing around it, and Jisung excitedly drags them towards it. Minho is a little hesitant to follow, wary of the drop too close nearby, but when he flicks his eyes upwards, towards the skyline of the city, he leans in even closer than Jisung.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. Jisung places their intertwined hands on the railing and leans his shoulder into Minho’s.

“It’s gorgeous,” he agrees and Minho spares half a glance to find a wide grin on his face, eyes wide and sparkling. “Have you ever been here?”

“Not this late,” Minho answers, looking back. It’s not too late into the night and there’s so many lights. The city seems to glow far into the dark blue of the night sky; someone is shooting fireworks but it’s too far to see more than just vague splotches of bright colors.

“I love coming here,” Jisung says quietly and Minho turns his full attention to him. They’re enveloped in the darkness for the most part, but the city lights shine off Jisung’s skin. He looks like he’s glowing from inside, a soft glimmering moon, and Minho tries to swallow but his mouth is dry.

He drops his gaze down to their intertwined hands. Jisung's silver rings sparkle.

“Do you do that often?” Minho asks. Jisung hums. An echo of a siren reaches them.

“Not nowadays. I used to but after… everything, it became a painful memory.”

“Oh.” Minho’s not sure what to say, so he grips Jisung’s fingers tighter in his.

“But you know what? I’m over it. I think,” Jisung declares and clears his throat, turning to Minho with a wide smile.

“You think?” Minho raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

“Hyung! Rude!” Jisung laughs, hitting Minho’s shoulder with his own. “Also, saw it from a mile away. Get better comebacks.”

“Excuse me?” Minho scoffs and hits Jisung back, a little too strong. They almost topple over and Jisung cackles when Minho stumbles into him.

“You’re excused,” he teases and Minho gives him a dirty look.

“Alright,” he says, moving to pull his hand out of Jisung’s.

“No, hyung, wait!” Jisung only holds on tighter and then brings their hands to his chest, quick and forcefully, so Minho has to follow. “Hold on for a moment.”

They’re chest to chest now, intertwined hands between them, and Minho brings up his free one to grip Jisung’s shoulder.

“Fine,” he mumbles and kisses Jisung.

They stumble closer to the railing and Minho pushes Jisung into it, pulling his hand free and then caging the younger boy between his arms. One of Jisung’s hands grips his upper arm while the other tangles in Minho’s hair, pushing them even closer.

“Be careful,” Jisung gasps when Minho trails kisses down his jaw. “Don’t push me off.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Minho kisses up to Jisung’s ear and whispers. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Jisung shudders and Minho smirks, taking a moment to bite Jisung’s earlobe before moving on, down his neck, taking his time with every kiss. He’s careful to not make the bruises too deep, just small little bites, like tiny kitten footprints, and in turn, Jisung mewls and purrs in his hold.

“Hey,” Minho whispers into Jisung’s lips between chaste kisses. He keeps his eyes wide open, watching as Jisung scrunches up his nose and pouts, chasing Minho’s lips. Anxiety pools in his stomach but so does determination. “I was thinking—”

“I’d say ‘you can do that?’ but I don’t want to steal your only joke,” Jisung murmurs and lurches forward, catching Minho’s lips for a moment before he pulls back.

“Har har,” Minho rolls his eyes, but indulges Jisung for a little bit. It’s a soft kiss and clearly not what Jisung wants, but Minho doesn’t let him escalate. “It’s just, I guess, I dunno.”

Minho sighs and Jisung opens his eyes, looking up at him with a concerned gaze.

“Is everything okay?” he asks and Minho just stares for a moment, biting his own lip. He has to do it now or he never will.

“Do you want to go on a date?”

Minho never quite felt seconds tick by ever before than he does now. He can feel every and each run down his back as Jisung stares back at him, brows slightly furrowed. It’s quiet, almost too much, and Minho wishes they were at a party, somewhere he could back into a crowd and disappear. Because, well, of course he expected this, it’s just that hope is a cruel and insidious thing—

“Wait,” Jisung finally speaks, shaking Minho from his spiraling thoughts. “I thought… we already are?”

“We are?” Minho asks back; he has to grip the railing under his palms tightly, just to make sure this is real.

“Um, yea? I guess?” Jisung’s voice is small and he turns his gaze sideways, his fingers heavy on Minho’s shoulders. He smells like oranges and mangoes and smoke and the city illuminates him from behind. Jisung looks like a radiant angel, but he’s real and right there, between Minho’s arms. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear.”

“It’s okay,” Minho murmurs, leaning forward to place their foreheads together and kiss the tip of Jisung’s nose. “I just… I need confirmation, sometimes. A lot, actually. I like it clear.”

“Oh,” Jisung’s gaze returns to Minho’s.

“But you didn’t know, so it’s fine.”

“I know now,” Jisung says and smiles before leaning in and kissing Minho. “So, yes, this is a date.”

“Good.” Minho grins into the kiss.

 

“So,” Minho leans back before both of them get too into it. Jisung whines but lets him, wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist. “What do you want to do now?”

“Is the gorgeous view not enough for you? What a greedy hyung,” Jisung teases him. Minho stares at him, leaning in so their noses almost touch.

“Oh, no, I’m enjoying the view very much,” he mumbles and Jisung scrunches up his nose, turning his face away as his cheeks redden.

“Stop,” he murmurs. Minho pecks his cheek. He feels giddy and his heart goes wild; they’re _on a date_. The thought is like a drug and he can’t get enough of it, letting it loop in his head. “Actually,” Jisung clears his throat. “I’m kinda hungry, I guess.”

“What do you want?” Minho asks, moving from the railing. Jisung grins, intertwining their fingers once again.

“Whatever you will buy me, hyung,” he winks and Minho laughs.

“Who said I’m pay—”

His words are interrupted by Jisung’s loud yawn that he immediately mirrors.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jisung laughs. “I promise I’m not too tired to have fun.” He starts pulling Minho closer. “Oh, I know this one place that’s open super late and it has the _best_ —”

“Hey,” Minho digs his heels in, stopping Jisung and making his turn around. “Actually…”

He takes a moment, looking away to take a deep breath.

“Minho-hyung?”

“Would you maybe want to go back to mine? We could grab some takeout on the way and watch a movie and just relax? We don’t have to but we’re both tired and—”

“You’re rambling,” Jisung laughs and squeezes Minho’s hand. “Of course I want to.”

“Okay,” Minho lets out the breath he was holding.

 

The lightbulb in Minho’s hallway buzzes lowly as it lights up. Jisung’s still giggling from the story he told Minho in the elevator, stumbling a little as he tries to pull off his shoes and jacket at the same time. Soonie is the first one to rub between Minho’s ankles when he reaches the kitchen but sound of refrigerator opening coax Dori and Doongie out into the open too.

“Hyung! You have cats?!” Minho hears Jisung coo as he pads over to the kitchen. “They’re so cute!”

“They are,” Minho chuckles when he turns around and finds Jisung sitting on the ground with Dori already in his lap. “Seems like they think you’re cute too.”

“I love them,” Jisung sighs and looks up at Minho with big eyes and an even bigger grin and Minho’s heart skips a beat.

Minho gets down on the ground as well and introduces his cats to Jisung, telling him each of theirs story and how they came to be a part of his family. Jisung listens intently, thoroughly petting Dori, and both of them forget the takeout on the counter until Minho’s stomach grumbles.

“Oh,” Jisung perks up and gently places Dori besides himself, standing up. “We should eat.”

His hand is warm when Minho takes it.

They end up watching a basic romcom but as soon as the last bite of noodles is gone, Jisung is crawling into Minho’s lap.

“I was watching,” he half-heartedly complains. Jisung glances back and grins.

“They’re kissing,” he says and Minho tries to lean sideways because he might possibly be a little interested in the story. Nothing wrong with that.

“Already?” Minho questions and Jisung nods, cupping his face and keeping it in place.

“Let me demonstrate,” he mumbles against Minho’s lips and presses in.

Minho runs his hands down Jisung’s back and then grips his hips.

“Sorry,” he pecks Jisung’s lips then lifts him by the back of his thighs and away from Minho.

“Hyung,” Jisung whines but Minho pulls him back in, against his chest. He shushes Jisung and places a kiss on his hair.

“The movie’s still going.”

Jisung groans but relaxes when Minho starts playing with his hair.

The movie goes on and sometime in the middle of it, Jisung shifts until he lays down with his head on Minho’s lap.

“Don’t stop,” he murmurs when Minho’s hand stills and Minho laughs but keeps going.

His other hand lays down on Jisung’s stomach and Jisung envelops it with both of his.

“By the way,” he whispers. Minho hums, sparing a glance down to find Jisung’s eyes half-open, mouth curved into a satisfied smirk. “Me and Felix had a bet.”

“About what?” Minho asks, turning his attention back towards the movie just as the heroine runs out into pouring rain.

“Whether you had three or two cats,” Jisung keeps mumbling, fingers idly brushing against the back of Minho’s hand. “I won.”

“Good,” Minho chuckles.

“I’m taking you out for coffee with my prize money,” Jisung’s voice fades down to such quiet mumbling, Minho barely hears it over the thunderous confessions on screen.

But he does.

His fingers still in Jisung’s hair and he swallows hard, looking down to Jisung’s closed eyes and parted lips. His throat tightens, heart going wild as the realization settles.

Jisung talks about him to others. He’s curious about Minho’s home life.

Jisung wants to go out for coffee. And he thought they were on a date today.

Jisung is _here_ , on his lap, in Minho’s living room. Asleep.

“How could I ever say no,” Minho mumbles. Jisung stirs, eyebrows furrowing and then relaxing once Minho continues carding fingers through his hair.

 

“Wake up.” Minho gently shakes Jisung once the credits roll.

“No,” Jisung mumbles and Minho laughs.

“Fine, you can sleep here, but I don’t want to kill my neck,” Minho says, lifting up Jisung’s head to move away but before he can, Jisung grabs his wrists.

“No,” he whines, eyes still closed. “Wanna cuddle.”

Minho sighs.

“Then let’s go to bed.”

“Carry me?” Jisung opens his eyes a little and pouts. Minho rolls his eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

“Please?”

“Jisung.”

“Hyung, please? You’re so strong and so handsome and—”

 

“If I drop you, it’s your own fault,” Minho grunts, holding onto Jisung just a little tighter. Minho can feel him smiling.

“Sure,” Jisung mumbles into Minho’s neck.

“I’m never doing this again,” he threatens in the hallway.

“Sure, hyung,” Jisung teases. “Just admit you’re weak for my cha- _aagh_!”

Minho laughs at Jisung’s shocked face when he lands on the bed.

“Sorry,” he says like he doesn’t mean it, but Jisung’s expression morphs into something darker.

“Not gonna lie,” he says, sitting up. “That was kinda hot.”

Minho lifts an eyebrow and walks towards the closet.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he says, shuffling through a drawer before pulling out some clothes. He throws a shirt and sweats to Jisung, who barely catches them, and then leaves to the bathroom.

Jisung is soundly asleep once Minho gets back, curled up under the blanket in the middle of the bed. Minho sits down and reaches over, watching the way Jisung sighs when he brushes some hair away from his forehead.

It’s funny, even after all the sinful thoughts Minho’s had about Jisung—both when they’re together and apart—he still feels awkward about crawling under the same covers.

Jisung startles him, turning around to grasp his wrist.

“Why aren’t you joining me?” he mumbles, eyes closed.

“I’m…” Minho swallows. “I think I’ll take the couch.”

Jisung frowns.

“You promised cuddles.”

“Don’t remember _promising_.” Minho smirks and Jisung wiggles closer, wrapping an arm around Minho’s waist.

“Hyung, don’t be difficult,” he whines.

“Well, that’s like, at least half of my personality,” Minho chuckles but complies, lying down. Jisung immediately cuddles into him, sighing as he gets comfortable.

“Move over,” Minho mumbles. “You’ll push me off.”

“I won’t,” Jisung says without moving. After a small pause he continues, “if you play with my hair.”

“Demanding,” Minho sighs but his fingers are already running through Jisung’s soft locks. “Anything else, your highness?”

“Don’t leave,” is a mumbled answer Minho gets, followed with hushed breaths.

Minho stares at his ceiling.

Headlights slowly drift across it while his heart beats so fast Minho’s not sure how Jisung can sleep above it.

 

There’s something cold on Minho’s skin; a drop rolling down his neck that makes him squirm and groan. He rubs his eyes for a moment and then opens them wide when he realizes there’s a heavy weight on his torso.

Jisung chuckles lowly when Minho startles, lifting his head to peck Minho’s jaw.

“Morning,” he whispers. Minho just stares at him for a moment.

“Why’s your hair wet?” he mumbles out, reaching over to brush off the wet hair plastered on Jisung’s forehead.

“I took a shower,” Jisung laughs.

“Makes sense,” Minho says, watching his own fingers card through Jisung’s blonde locks. His mind wanders for a moment, still chasing loose ends of a dream he can barely remember. Jisung sighs and places his chin on folded arms atop Minho’s chest.

He’s staring at Minho, just the slightest bit cross-eyed, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“What time is it?” Minho groans, forcing himself to be a little more alert, and turns to the side table in search of his phone.

“A little after eight,” Jisung says, creeping up a hand to brush his fingers on Minho’s neck. Minho hums and closes his eyes.

“Let’s nap a little more?” he mumbles, letting his hand drift down to Jisung’s back, gently, slowly scratching up and down. Jisung sighs.

“Maybe you should take a shower too?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I will literally throw you out of this bed, don’t test me.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jisung chuckles and places a couple kisses on Minho’s chest. “We can cuddle.”

“Good,” Minho murmurs and relaxes, feeling the drowsiness claim him again.

It’s quiet, only their soft breaths and light footsteps from above to be heard. Minho feels like he’s drowning in cotton, barely aware of the world outside his head. Jisung continues drawing patterns on Minho’s skin, going up his neck to his jaw and cheeks. His gentle fingers keep travelling on Minho’s face, stuttering just the slightest bit when they reach his lips, but they continue on, barely brushing over the skin; carefully tracing the outline with only the tips.

The door creaks a little when one of the cats pushes it open. She jumps on the bed, purring the moment she lands and Jisung smiles, whispering a quiet greeting. His fingers are frozen in the middle of Minho’s bottom lip.

Minho sighs, stirring a little, and Jisung shifts, sitting up to straddle Minho’s stomach. He takes a moment to stretch up, yawning wide.

Minho’s hand on Jisung’s waist startles him and he looks down to find Minho smirking, eyes barely open.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Jisung grumbles pulling down his shirt from where it rode up. Minho’s hand stays under it, warm and heavy.

“I thought you said we’d cuddle,” Minho muses and yawns.

“I’m hungry,” Jisung says, pouting a little. “Do you have to be somewhere? Can we go out for breakfast?”

Minho hums.

“I only have classes in the afternoon. Where do you want to go?”

 

“Their pancakes are so fucking good, you have no clue,” Jisung rambles, pushing on the glass door with one hand and dragging Minho in with the other. The cafe smells like caramel and coffee. There’s only one other customer besides them.

“I do have a clue,” Minho laughs and Jisung looks back for a second, confused, when the cashier calls out to them.

“Jisung! Hey!” Woojin waves and grins even wider when he notices Minho. Minho has half a mind to pull away from Jisung, but he’s holding on tight. “Well, what a _surprise_ to see you two together.”

“Oh, what do you mean?” Minho raises an eyebrow and Jisung glances between them for a moment.

“I’ll admit, kinda stupid of me to not consider you two know each other,” he says, leaning on the counter, his right hand still intertwined with Minho’s and Minho relaxes a little bit, coming closer so their shoulders touch.

“Is there anything you do that isn’t stupid?” he teases. Woojin scoffs, rolling his eyes, but Jisung just smirks, staring Minho down.

“I don’t know, I think that what I did last time we met wasn’t stupid.”

“Okay, please spare me the details!” Woojin intercepts and Jisung giggles, but Minho keeps staring at him for a moment longer, enjoying the messy waves his hair dried into and the way morning sun shines on his skin.

 

Before they separate, Minho—finally—asks Jisung for his number.

“So I can get that coffee you promised,” he says and giggles when Jisung flushes red.

“You heard that?” he spits out before turning his head. “Ugh. Whatever. Here you go.”

He hands Minho his unlocked phone and Minho keeps giggling as he sends a text to himself.

“Heart heart Minho heart heart, that’s a cute name you got there,” Jisung laughs when his phone is returned. “Actually, wait, keep still.”

“Okay?” Minho tilts his head a little and Jisung snaps a picture of him, sticking out his tongue the smallest bit as he looks at the screen.

“Cute,” he says and Minho frowns.

“Unfair, I get one too then,” he says, opening the camera app.

Jisung pulls an exaggerated sexy expression, pouty lips and all, and Minho laughs, taking several shots.

“You sure that’s what you want it to be? You look ugly,” he says and Jisung gasps, playing up his shock.

“Hyung! Why are you always so rude,” he whines, pouting a little, and then tries to steal Minho’s phone. “Delete them, you don’t deserve them anymore!”

“Nope,” Minho giggles, quickly slipping the phone into his pocket. “You’ll just have to live with that decision.”

“I’ll take you out for the worst coffee this country has,” Jisung promises, but Minho only laughs more.

“As long as I’m with you,” he mumbles into his cup, pleased with Jisung’s reddening ears.

 

Minho’s daydreaming instead of taking notes that afternoon when his phone vibrates. He grins as he pulls it out, ready to tease Jisung—none of his other friends would write him during class; too aware of how easily distracted he gets, given the chance.

But it’s not Jisung and Minho’s heart drops.

_Hey, I’m back in town. Wanna go for coffee?_

Minho thought he’d blocked his number. His phone vibrates again.

_I miss you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can also come talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/squishiesungie) or [cc!](https://curiouscat.me/squishiesungie)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like it! ❤  
> (thanks again soof❤❤! cause jeez i'm not good at noticing mistakes... yikes)

“Why didn’t you block him?” Chan asks. Minho groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“I did,” he mumbles, sinking even deeper into the couch. “I mean. I thought I did? Maybe he changed his number.”

“So, will you answer?” Woojin nudges Minho’s knee with his own and Minho squeezes his eyes shut. He feels nauseous at the thought itself.

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. He hates the turn this day has taken; just a few hours ago, he was the happiest he’s been in a while.

“Maybe you should just delete it? Who cares if he _misses_ you, you moved on,” Chan offers and he’s probably right. That would definitely be the smart thing to do.

“...You did move on, right?” Chan questions after Minho stays quiet for a beat too long. Minho kind of hates how he can tell that both of his friends are sharing meaningful looks right now. Maybe he should be glad they care, but he just feels tired and weak.

“Minho?” Woojin nudges his knee again and Minho lowers his arm, still keeping his eyes shut.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” he says but he can’t sound convinced no matter how hard he tries.

Minho almost asks for a glass of water but that, stupidly, reminds him of Jisung.

God, Jisung hasn’t texted him yet.

Minho can’t help but wonder if he changed his mind about the coffee date. Was he disappointed with their sleepover? Did he expect something _more_? There was that moment during the movie where he seemed determined to make a move, but Minho chickened out, despite being in his own home. It just seemed wrong, somehow; not that Minho ever cared about fucking on the first date.

It’s just something about Jisung that makes him want to try harder again.

Minho takes in a sharp breath and opens his eyes. Fuck. He’s really is worming his way straight into Minho’s heart.

 

Minho lays awake for a while that night. He keeps still, staring at the ceiling as the headlights pass through sparser and sparser, absentmindedly running his hands down Soonie’s fur. There’s still fragments of last night in his room; if Minho turned his head to the right just a little more, he could catch a whiff of Jisung’s cologne. But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to the left and picks his phone up.

The last picture in his gallery is mostly obscured by Jisung’s stretched out arm, but you can still glimpse a pouty face. There’s one that’s a little too blurry, but the next one is perfect—just a little low quality, in a cute way, Jisung’s pouty lips and sparkly eyes and messy hair.

Minho smiles to himself, then swipes again to find Jisung’s shocked face, then the try-hard sexy expressions, and the smile turns into soft giggles. He almost sends one of the ridiculous pictures to Jisung, before he remembers and his stomach drops the slightest bit. It’s really late into the night, Minho reasons, putting away his phone again. He wouldn’t want to wake Jisung up for nothing.

The dark ceiling is slowly flooded with orange when Minho finally closes his eyes.

 

Sleep deprived Minho is stupid. So so stupid. But the _sent_ turns into _seen_ and Minho can’t do anything about that.

 _Are you free tonight?_ The answer comes quick as if he’s been waiting.

Minho frowns, sparing a glance to up to avoid walking into a pole. Tonight is a little fast, but maybe that’s good.

_Sure._

The sooner this is over and dealt with, the better.

_I’m staying at a hotel, they have an amazing restaurant. Should I send you an address or come get you?_

Minho scoffs. As if he’d get into a car with him.

_Address._

 

It’s strange. Minho thought it’d be easier to fall back into the old attitude, even after more than two years of doing everything to forget. It had become something natural to him—he was never incredibly comfortable in the fancy places that Taehyuk loved to visit, but he had learned to tune it all out and pretend.

Now, it hits like a crushing wave, just like the very first time; all the pungent perfumes, all the shiny but cold golden hues, the even colder gazes and fake smiles. Minho knows he looks good, he knows he has just enough of the posture to seem like he fits in, but his insides still tremble. He wants to throw up all over the polished marble floor, to run back out because—why is he doing this in the first place, if he’s so adamant about having moved on?

“Minho,” Taehyuk’s soft voice calls out to him and Minho sits down without a glance to his face. The water rushes past his ears, loud and thunderous. Or maybe it’s the blood in his veins. It doesn’t matter. Minho takes a breath and counts to three. Reminds himself the waves can’t crush him again.

“Taehyuk-ssi,” he answers, finally lifting his head. Taehyuk raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, instead gesturing towards the menu.

“It’s good to see you,” he says and Minho grips the heavy pages, pretending he’s interested in their salad selection.

“Wish I could say the same,” he murmurs and he can hear Taehyuk sigh. He doesn’t look up, just turns the page again.

“Can’t we just… have a civil dinner? A good time?” Taehyuk says, voice sharp, and this time Minho raises his gaze. Taehyuk looks a lot more tired than he used to. He’d bleached his hair since the last time Minho saw him, but he’s not sure it suits him the way it suits Jisung.

Minho blinks, taps his foot. Now’s not the best time to think about Jisung.

“You’re always so damn difficult,” Taehyuk finishes with half a frown, looking over his shoulder to call a waiter, and Minho wants to laugh at the way he sounds like a petulant child.

“Oh, well,” Minho’s eyes settle on a tasty looking steak dish. “At least I’m not a cowardly dickhead.”

It’s quiet enough to not start a scene but Taehyuk hears it still, if the scowl that settles on his face is anything to go by. Minho keeps a smirk to himself as a pretty waitress approaches them.

Maybe this is somewhat worth it after all.

The waitress takes their orders and Minho keeps his eyes on her for as long as he can.

“So, what is this about?” he asks, when she disappears into the kitchen. The silence weighs heavy above them, like waves upon waves of heavy ocean waters, the way it used to the last few weeks they were still together. But Minho’s above them now, floating on the surface, even as they try to tug him to the bottom again.

“Am I not allowed to want to reconnect?” Taehyuk says and Minho wonders if that’s how he looked back then, if Minho’s eyes were just as dulled, too many layers for the sun to pass through.

“Your sense of humour is still horrible,” Minho scoffs. “Good to see nothing changed.”

There’s a beat of silence and Taehyuk looks straight into Minho’s eyes. For a brief moment, Minho can feel the depths pulling at him so he swallows and averts his gaze.

“Nothing really did, huh,” Taehyuk says and Minho hates the way his tone has morphed back into the soft lull of when he greeted him. “You know, I wasn’t lying, Minho.”

Minho lets out half a quiet chuckle, rubbing the edge of the white tablecloth between his fingers. His throat constricts around words he wishes to choke out.

“I really do miss you,” Taehyuk continues and his voice is so soft, so sweet.

Too sweet and yet not melodic enough. There’s a threat under it—like a cupcake with razor blades in it—and now that Minho knows the gentle notes of Jisung’s laughter, he wonders how he ever thought _this_ was appealing. How he used to think it was genuine and real.

“Don’t you miss me?” Taehyuk keeps talking and Minho takes a deep breath.

“I know what—”

“Your wine.”

There’s a glass being filled right in front of Minho, but he’s frozen in place, heart beating wildly. He’s too terrified to breathe, to spare even a glance up. The waiter moves on to Taehyuk and Minho’s surprised his heartbeat isn’t loud enough to echo through the whole restaurant.

“Is there anything else you need?”

He sounds like pineapples and mangoes and quietly whispered promises.

Taehyuk shakes his head and Minho finally moves, flicks his gaze up and catches Jisung’s sparkly eyes for half a second. There’s confusion clear in them and something else that is hard to decipher through the mask of politeness. He gives Minho the tiniest smile and a nod and then walks off.

He looks pretty, Minho notes, with the white button up and brushed back hair. Now’s not the time, though. Minho takes another deep breath and wraps his trembling fingers around the stem of the glass. His thoughts are getting cloudy again and he can’t stand that.

“You were saying?” Taehyuk lifts an eyebrow and Minho wonders if he knows, if he has any idea.

Minho really, really hopes he doesn’t.

He ignores Taehyuk’s glass, tilted at him as if waiting for a toast, and just takes a sip. It’s too sour and not strong enough. He forces himself to focus on the resentment that bubbles just underneath his skin.

“Why are you back?” Minho asks instead. “You definitely didn’t fly all this way because you _miss me_.”

The urge for air quotes is strong but Minho resists, hoping his tone is biting enough.

“Oh, honey, you should know your worth,” Taehyuk smirks but Minho just stares him down until he sighs, rolling his eyes. “My sister is getting married.”

Minho almost laughs out loud.

“Can’t find anyone that would stand you for even one evening so you’re resorting to exes?”

“Never said I’m inviting you,” Taehyuk is swirling the wine slightly and Minho hums.

“Good, cause I’d never agree,” he says and there’s a heavy pause as Taehyuk goes rigid.

“Not even for _dear Nakko-noona_?” he throws out, taking a sip as he turns away. Minho frowns.

“I’ll send her a card and some flowers.”

Taehyuk tuts and looks back.

“Oh, you have—” he leans forward and swipes his thumb over Minho’s cheek, only deepening his frown. There’s no way he got something on his face; besides, why is Taehyuk softly smiling all of a sudden?

“Excuse me,” a quiet, melodic voice calls out and Minho freezes for half a second before flinching backwards so Taehyuk’s no longer touching him. His cheek burns.

He watches Jisung as he places the dishes, but Jisung doesn’t spare even a glance toward him, keeping his eyes down on the table. He clears his throat, blinking fast, and Minho’s chest aches.

He can feel Taehyuk’s heavy gaze on himself, though, and so he keeps his mouth shut and averts his eyes, so that Jisung doesn’t become one of his targets too.

“Would you like a refill?” Jisung says and Minho thought hearing his familiar voice would make him feel at least a little better, but the polite coldness just makes it all worse.

It’s like ice, crawling and spreading over the waters, and staying afloat is becoming harder and harder.

“Yes, please,” Taehyuk chirps out.

“He’s cute,” he comments when Jisung walks away. Minho hums, feigning indifference, rubbing the edge of tablecloth between his fingers again. “Easily flustered too… C’mon, honey, don’t you wanna play again, the way we used to? These youngsters get riled up so fast.” His tone is teasing and sharp, something Minho used to find charming. Now it makes him want to hurl.

Minho is aware of Taehyuk’s hand on the table, between their plates, of his piercing gaze. He scoots his chair back, just a couple more centimeters away.

“This was a mistake,” he sighs and raises his head.

“Every second I’ve spent with you was a mistake, actually,” Minho says loud and clear, willing his voice to be stable. He feels more nauseous than that one time he went on the fastest fucking rollercoaster ever; and yet the tightness in his stomach is in no way comparable to the burn behind his eyes. “And I was stupid for not realizing that sooner.”

Minho stands up and walks off to where he suspects the bathrooms to be. He takes a turn the last minute, noticing Jisung just as he walks away from the bar.

“Minho-hyung?” Jisung startles when Minho touches his elbow.

“Hey,” Minho quickly whispers in a hushed tone. “When do you get off?”

“An hour or so,” Jisung answers and blinks, giving Minho a once over. It’s the longest his eyes have been on Minho this whole evening and he has to fight the shiver that rolls down his back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Minho gives him half a smile. “Can I meet you after work? For a little bit.”

“Of course!” Jisung lights up but before he can fully open his mouth again, Minho pushes him forward.

“Good. Now go do your job.”

“Always so rude,” Jisung complains but his voice isn’t icy anymore and that’s all Minho cares about.

 

The Minho that stares back at him from the mirror looks tired, dulled. He sighs and closes his eyes, leaning in until his forehead touches the cold glass.

He hates the way Taehyuk's fingers felt on his skin, the way his eyes roamed Minho’s face. His head feels hazy and full of cotton.

Hazy, hazy, hazy; he hates the word and the feeling and the subdued sting of tears between his eyelashes that he blinks away. Everything has gone all blurry again, all the lines fading into each other, all his emotions mixing up, shadowy claws pulling him under.

Minho used to be so deep under the freezing waters, where everything was fuzzy, and sometimes it’s hard to remember that he’s not anymore.

He wonders for a moment, why was he so scared of Jisung being real? He tries to remember all the flimsy excuses his brain tried to tie him up in, ones about fragility and pain and whatever else; how did he forget that uncertainty can hurt so much more?

The sink is white. Minho’s fingers grip the cold porcelain and he counts seconds as he breathes; reminding himself this part of his life is over. That while it was a mistake to come here, at least it’s a good reminder. Taehyuk didn’t change at all.

But Minho did, so he stares at himself for another second, resolve settling deep in his bones, and goes back.

Minho doesn’t sit down when he reaches their table.

“I’m leaving,” he says and Taehyuk looks up at him, slowly chewing. There’s no surprise in his eyes.

“You’re not even gonna eat?” he asks. “That’s a little rude.”

Minho just shrugs and moves to walk away, but Taehyuk speaks up again, voice coated with honey.

“What’s up with that waiter anyway? You two know each other?”

Minho stops for the briefest moment before shaking his head.

“No,” he answers, loud and confident, and walks away, too aware of Taehyuk’s eyes on him.

 

The water is hot and Minho lets it beat down on his skin, staying under for longer than he needs to. The shower is pointless, but he doesn’t know how else to pass the time and sitting around, thoughts running in his head, won’t do him any good either.

Not that the shower helps quiet his mind, but it’s a lot harder to hear anything over the sting on his skin.

Minho carelessly throws on some clothes and his hair is still damp as he sits in the car, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He parks way further from the hotel than he could and walks the rest of the way, too aware of the time ticking by.

He thinks he gets a little early to the back entrance of the restaurant, but to his surprise, Jisung is already outside, a lit cigarette between his fingers and a white cap on his head.

“Hey,” Minho stops in front of him, offering a small smile and Jisung looks up with wide eyes.

“Oh,” he blinks, licking his lips. “You’re here.”

“I told you I’d meet you, didn’t I?” Minho tilts his head. Jisung doesn’t keep his gaze for a long time, looking down. He shrugs and takes a quick drag.

“I guess,” Jisung mumbles and Minho wants to cup his cheek and press their lips together but the way Jisung’s shoulders are hunched stops him from moving.

“So,” Jisung clears his throat and drops his unfinished cigarette, stepping on it. “Were you two on a date or?”

Minho raises an eyebrow and a low chuckle escapes his throat, laced with bitterness.

“God, no, I hope I never see him again.”

“Oh,” Jisung blinks at him, uncertainty all over his face.

They’re quiet for a moment as Minho tries to wade through the fog in his brain—it’s diminishing with every second he’s next to Jisung, but the words are still hard to come by.

“Jisung, why…” he swallows hard and forces himself to speak, dropping his gaze down to Jisung’s fidgety fingers. “I was waiting for you to text me. About the coffee.”

“Ah!” Jisung exclaims, hands coming up to cover his eyes and Minho’s gaze follows them. “Oh, no, hyung, I completely forgot! See, I had this long-ass paper to write for yesterday and I got _so_ caught up and today there was a test and then work and it just…”

Minho breathes out a laugh as he feels the weight lift off his chest.

“You little—” he pushes Jisung’s shoulder lightly and Jisung giggles, so Minho giggles too, and then they’re both laughing over nothing.

Jisung looks up at Minho with a pout.

“I’m so sorry,” he whines.

“‘Sorry’ won’t cut it,” Minho raises an eyebrow and Jisung widens his eyes.

“What do you want then?” his voice is quiet and breathy and Minho bites his lip, fingers tightening on Jisung’s shoulder.

“Depends,” he mumbles and pushes in closer until Jisung’s back is flush against the wall. He lifts his other arm and grabs Jisung’s cap, pulling it off so he can lean in closer. Their noses are almost touching and Minho can feel Jisung’s breath on his skin.

“On what?” Jisung whispers, looping his arms around Minho’s neck.

“How sorry you are,” Minho says and leans in. Jisung meets him eagerly. His lips are a little chapped and he tastes like tobacco but the sweet fruitiness still surfaces and Minho sighs, content.

Jisung’s warm fingers are heavy on his skin, his body solid under Minho’s hands, and it’s hard for him to pull back, but he does because they’re outside Jisung’s work.

“Is that all?” Jisung giggles, lifting an eyebrow. He traces a couple kisses down Minho’s jaw.

“Definitely not,” Minho sighs. “Maybe you wanna go somewhere else? A little more… private?”

Jisung immediately leans back, biting his lip and staring at Minho with big eyes.

“We,” he clears his throat. “We sure could.”

Minho smirks and pulls him towards his car.

It’s quiet as they ride, Jisung fiddling with the radio before giving up and looking out the window. Minho keeps stealing glances his way, biting his lip as he considers speaking, except he’s not sure what to say. So he focuses on driving, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

 

Jisung pulls him in closer the moment Minho’s apartment door closes, but his lips are slow and careful. The hand on Minho’s cheek trembles a little and Minho frowns, wrapping his fingers around it as he pulls back.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, observing Jisung’s face. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m fine,” Jisung insists and leans in closer again. Minho lets them kiss for a minute, intertwining their fingers, but Jisung himself moves back before Minho can. He takes in a deep breath and leans his forehead on Minho’s shoulder.

Minho wraps his other arm around Jisung’s shoulders, rubbing down his back.

“You sure?” he asks quietly.

“I know we’re not…” Jisung starts then stops, takes another deep breath. “You don’t have to answer but— Who was he?”

Minho doesn’t see any point in lying.

“Taehyuk’s my ex,” he murmurs, still gently running his fingers down Jisung’s back. “We broke up more than two years ago.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, in the same unsure tone as before.

“He texted me yesterday, asking to meet and I just…” Minho sighs, closing his eyes and stilling his hand. “I don’t know. I thought maybe it’d be good, or something. I guess I didn’t think it through fully.”

“It wasn’t?” Jisung asks and shifts so his lips brush against Minho’s neck. He shivers and swallows hard.

“I hate him,” Minho laughs but it’s short and mirthless. Jisung hums. “Whatever. Next time I see him, _if_ I see him, I should deck him.”

“Violent,” Jisung giggles but it’s short-lived. He’s quiet again but Minho can tell he wants to say something so he lifts his hand and runs his fingers through Jisung’s hair.  One of the cats meows, but Minho ignores her, all attention focused on Jisung and his quiet breaths.

“Hyung, I…” Jisung sighs and moves back. Minho lets his hand fall down, his other still tightly holding onto Jisung’s. “I know we’ve only been on one real date and I know that there’s no… Like, we’re not officially together or anything, we never even talked about it and so I have no right to-to, I don’t know. To be like this? But…” Jisung squeezes his eyes shut as his voice wavers. “Why was I so sad? When I saw you with someone else, when I saw you with _him_ , his hand on your cheek, I just. I got mad, a little, I guess, but mostly I just got very sad. And this is so stupid,” Jisung opens his eyes and meets Minho’s gaze and his eyes are sparkling, eyelashes wet. “It’s stupid of me to say this or think this or whatever, but I think… I think I like you a- _a_ _lot_. A lot more than I thought I did. Maybe a lot more than I should.”

Jisung bites his lip and looks down and Minho stares at him with unblinking eyes. His heart is thrashing like a wild bird in a cage.

The lightbulb in Minho’s hallway buzzes lowly and it’s a little too dim, but Jisung still looks so beautiful under its weak light. He looks so real—his hair a little dry and messy, skin a little flushed, pink lips parting as he sighs quietly, eyelashes sticking together with unshed tears. He looks so much like a dream, like something Minho isn’t sure he deserves to keep in his arms. He looks scared, most of all, and tired and unsure and sad, and Minho can feel every single one of those emotions resonate in his own chest and wrap around his neck, strangling him.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much,” Jisung whispers and blinks rapidly. His hand goes loose in Minho’s hold but he just tightens his grip.

“Hey,” Minho whispers and cups Jisung’s cheek, lifting his face. “Jisungie, it’s okay. Maybe we’re both stupid, then. Cause I think I like you a lot more than I should too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so! i have two finals left, on 10th and 14th, and depending on whether anxiety will make me more or less inspired there /might/ be an update before that but it's more likely it'll be after :(( i hope you liked this tho!  
> also aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa skz comeback ;o;  
> you can also come talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/squishiesungie) or [cc!](https://curiouscat.me/squishiesungie)


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